Hope Rekindled (Striking a Match Book #3) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Tracie Peterson

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163 pages

English

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At long last, Deborah Vandermark is preparing for her own wedding...but the groom suddenly goes absent. Tragedy has befallen Christopher's family in Kansas City, upsetting the doctor's future with Deborah. With five siblings now under his care, can he return to Texas and impose a ready-made family on Deborah? Deborah herself finds her resolve faltering as her fears about marriage and career start to overwhelm her. How can she marry and be a mother to Christopher's siblings, and still be able to pursue her work and training as a physician? When an old adversary reveals a contract that may spell ruin for Vandermark Logging, Deborah's life seems to be spiraling out of control. How can God possibly work this for good? And can Christopher and Deborah find a way to claim the future they long to share when so much stands in their way?

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Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	01 juin 2011
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781441232380
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0259€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Hope Rekindled
Copyright © 2011
Tracie Peterson
Cover design by Jennifer Parker
Cover photography by Kevin White Photogaphy, Minneapolis
ISBN 978-1-4412-3238-0
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
Unless otherwise identified, Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
Scripture quotations identified NIV are from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION,® NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2010 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
E-book edition created 2011
To Dr. Peter Kelleher with thanks for your generous heart and fantastic surgical skills.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Contents
Start Reading
Letter to the Reader
About the Author
Books by Author
Back Ads
Back Cover
East Texas, March 1887
Y ou . . . you can’t marry him,” Jake Wythe declared, taking Deborah Vandermark by the arm. He swayed for a moment, then pulled her with him to the far side of the porch. “You can’t.”
Deborah broke loose from his hold. “Jake, don’t be ridiculous. We’ve been through this. I love Christopher. This is a celebration of my upcoming wedding, and I will thank you not to embarrass me by making a scene.” Deborah hoped her words would somehow sober him a bit. “Let’s return to the others.”
“You only wanna . . . wanna marry him because he’s a doctor. You want to be a doctor and figure this is . . . is the way to get that done.”
“Nonsense,” Deborah said, putting her hands on her hips. “If I only wanted to train to be a doctor, there are other ways to accomplish the task without committing my life to someone. Now, if this is all you came to tell me, I’m going back inside to be with my guests.”
“He’s an Irishman!” Jake declared, stumbling forward.
Deborah stopped and looked at him. The fact that Christopher Clayton was truly Christopher Clayton Kelleher was well-known in her family and circle of friends, but why Jake thought it important to bring it up now was beyond her.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Jake. You’ve saved my life more than once, but I don’t love you. We’re just good friends.”
He pushed her back against the house. “But I love you. Don’t you understand? I want to marry you. It should be me.” He took hold of her face rather roughly and covered her mouth with his own.
Deborah fought against his hold. His breath reeked of beer as he sought to deepen his kiss. She tried to claw at his face, but Jake quickly pinned her arms.
“I can make you . . . happy,” he murmured against her lips.
“Stop or I’ll scream!”
She didn’t need to. In a flash, G.W. had yanked Jake away from her and onto his backside. Standing over the smaller man, Deborah’s brother shook a fist at him. “Of all the dumb things. What in the world is wrong with you, Wythe?”
“I love her. She shouldn’t . . . shouldn’t marry the doc. She . . . she . . . she should marry me.”
“You’re drunk.” G.W. reached down and pulled Jake to his feet. “You’re drunk and you attacked my sister. Get out of here and don’t come back. You’re fired.”
Jake looked at him, confused—as if the words didn’t make sense. He stumbled back against the porch rail, then lurched toward Deborah.
G.W. grabbed him and threw him off the porch. “I said to get on out of here. We don’t tolerate drinkin’, and we sure don’t allow for drunks to attack our women.”
Jake landed in a flurry of dust. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Deborah. I love you.”
Christopher came to her side. He put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a quizzical stare. “What’s this all about?”
“Jake wants me to marry him instead of you. He’s been drinking and he . . .” She paused a moment, unsure of what to say. “Well, he forced a kiss on me.” She tried to sound casual, but in truth it had really shaken her.
Christopher frowned and looked to where Jake was just picking himself up off the ground. “Are you all right?” he asked, his hand stroking her arm in concern.
“I’m fine. Let’s just go back inside.” Coming alongside her brother, Deborah put her hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, G.W.” She refused to cast even the briefest glance at Jake, which only caused him to call after her.
“Do you hear me? Deborah? I love you, Deborah. I love you.”
Mercifully, as she drew nearer to the house, the music drowned out Jake’s pathetic cries. A little band of local talent played while others danced and laughed in celebration of her upcoming nuptials. Apparently Jake had decided to forgo making merry, preferring to numb his pain and bolster his courage with liquor. She glanced around the room, wondering if others were also imbibing.
“Why were you outside?” Christopher asked.
She shrugged. “Jake asked me to step onto the porch with him so he could tell me something. I had no idea that he’d been drinking.”
Christopher led her to where the refreshments were laid out and poured her a glass of punch. “I’m sorry I wasn’t with you.”
“There was no reason to believe you needed to be.” Deborah took the glass from him. “It’s best we put it behind us now.”
He narrowed his gaze and tilted her face to the light. “You may have a bruise.”
She touched her free hand to her jaw. “Oh, bother. Well, it’s a week until the wedding, so it should fade.”
“Just a week,” he said with a grin. “Seems like an eternity.”
Deborah laughed. She sipped the punch and gazed out at the people who’d come to her family’s home to share their revelry. Mother and Arjan were dancing, as were others. G.W. and Lizzie stood to one side. As Lizzie drew her husband’s hand to her lips, G.W.’s deep scowl softened. No doubt his thoughts were still on Jake Wythe. At Lizzie’s kiss, however, his outlook appeared to change. Deborah could see that her friend had a soothing effect on G.W. Lizzie motioned to his leg and he rubbed it, but nodded. G.W. had nearly lost the limb and his very life when he’d fallen from a tree over a year ago. He’d worked hard to recover, although he still was not up to dancing.
“Would you like to waltz with me?”
Deborah looked at the man who would soon be her husband. “I would like that very much.” She allowed Christopher to take the glass from her and place it on the table. He extended his arm and she smiled. They might live in the seclusion of the Big Piney Woods, but they were still quite civilized when it suited them.
Christopher placed his hand upon her waist, and Deborah found girlish joy bubble up from within as they swayed to the music. She remembered the first time she’d been at a barn dance—the first time she was actually allowed to stay up for the dance itself. She had been fourteen and quite enthralled to discover what went on at such events. Her steps had been more awkward back then, and she’d mashed and bruised her fair share of toes. The gangly girl she’d been had grown up, however, and she easily kept stride with her husband-to-be. She had never been happier.
“I wish we could bring your family here for the wedding.”
Christopher shook his head. “It’s far too costly. I promised my mother we would come for a visit in the summer if all went well.”
The music ended and the fiddle player declared he needed a break to smoke his pipe. The band disbursed and the dancers headed for the refreshment table.
“I can hardly wait to meet your mother. She sounds like a wonderful woman,” Deborah whispered as Christopher led her to the side of the room.
“You two are very much alike,” he replied. “You are both very intelligent, although my mother never had the chance for school—at least nothing more than grade school. But she’s a determined soul, nevertheless, and taught her children to read and encouraged them to attend school. She would appreciate your stance on education being of the utmost importance.” Christopher leaned closer. “It looks as though there are ladies who would like to speak to you. I’ll go talk to G.W. and thank him again for rescuing you.”
Before she could reply he was gone, and Deborah found herself half circled by several women. Mrs. Perkins and Mrs. Huebner were on her right, while Mother and Dinah Wolcott were on her left. Lizzie and the pastor’s daughter, Mara, made their way to join her, as well.
“So is your gown finished?” Mrs. Huebner asked. “I understand you’re reworking your mother’s wedding dress.”
“Yes,” Deborah replied, giving her mother a quick smile. “Mother’s gown was designed in the late 1850s, and as you know, the fashions have changed considerably. I have to admit, however, my contributions have been minimal. Mother and Sissy have been the ones to transform it.”
“Have you changed it to a great degree, Euphanel?” Mrs. Huebner asked.
“Yes. You must remember, I married in Georgia. The skirts then were quite voluminous. We have been able to drape the tiered flouncing up and back over a bustle. Sissy is a genius when it comes to such handwork.”
“She is,” Deborah agreed.
“We need to hem it, but otherwise, we’re very nearly done,” Mother added.
Mrs. Perkins glanced around the room. Her husband founded the little sawmill town of Perkinsville, which left Mrs. Perkins as its unofficial matron. “Oh, a wedding is just the thing to cheer up our little town. Look what this party has done for our spirits.” She continued, “I’m certain you have more than enough flowers for the wedding, but should you need any additional blooms, please feel free to visit my garden. You are free to take anything you need.”
“That’s so kind, Rachel,” M